


The Brotherhood

by Carnath



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bondage, Chloroform, Cults, Gags, Illustrations, Kidnapping, M/M, Mind Control, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Panel gag, straitjacket
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-10 12:49:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6957193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carnath/pseuds/Carnath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where Dean and Sam get captured by a mysterious cult. </p><p>Lots of bondage and gids :)</p><p>Story illustrated by @Bowen12a (look at his DA page!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

“You sure they will come here, brother?”  
  
“The Master is. He has never been mistaken so far”  
  
Dave and Jim climbed off the cabin of their van. The weather was still mild, yet it was the beginning of autumn. Dave had parked the van away from the forest paths, which meant the young men were going for a little walk till they reached the cabin. They walked silently, engulfed in their black cloaks. Dave was carrying a heavy duffel bag. The only noise they made was the leaves and small branches creaking under their leather combat boots.  
  
“So”. Dave broke the silence. “Is this your first operation?”  
  
“Yes”. Jim replied swiftly. “I joined the Brotherhood and received my communion five months ago. I was trained all along. Two days ago, Brother Cort told me that my training is complete and that the Master had an assignment for me”.  
  
“Praised be the Master, for he did you a great honor”  
  
“Praised be the Master”.  
  
They had been walking for ten minutes now. Despite his cape and his brown long-sleeved pull-over, Jim was starting to feel a bit chilly. He pulled the hood of his cape over his head.  
  
“Didn't you park the van too far away?”  
  
“No, Brother. The targets are expert killers. If they get any clue about our presence, we would never catch them”. He paused. “In fact, we'll probably end up dead. In any case, we would have failed the Brotherhood”.  
  
“Who are these guys? I know they're supernatural hunters but Brother Cort didn't told me much…”  
  
“Sam and Dean Winchester. Expert hunters, trained by their father since they were children. The reunited and are now looking for their missing dad. And they still enforce their family business”.  
  
“Does the Master want to recruit them for the Brotherhood?”  
  
“I don't know. The will of the Master is not to be questioned”.  
  
They arrived in sight of the cabin. One level, made of wood, isolated in the middle of the forest. Just like in horror shows. A few more steps and they arrived in front of the door. The old wood of the small porch creaked under their boots. Though the whole cabin seemed pretty rustic, the door was solidly locked.  
  
“So” said Dave with a friendly smile, “let's see if Brother Cort trained you well”.  
  
Jim was already grabbing his lock-picking stuff.  
  
“Aren't you forgetting something?” asked Dave with a mocking tone. “You don't want your fingerprints tracked down”.  
  
“Sorry” whispered Jim as he took from his pocket a pair of black latex gloves and put them on. “Won't happen again, brother”.  
  
“Hey, relax, brother!” replied Dave with a friendly smile as he put his own gloves on. “I'm not here to evaluate you. Your training is over. We're all equal servants of the Master now”.  
  
It only took a few seconds for Jim to open the door. The two cultists entered the lobby of the cabin.  
  
“Not much to see here. It's almost empty. And there has been nobody here from a long time, judging by the dust” remarked Jim.  
  
“Good thing. So we have a little time to settle down”. Dave put the heavy duffel bag he was carrying on the floor and nodded to Jim.  
  
“Come on, see if we have all the stuff!”  
  
“Of course”.  
  
The first thing he extracted from the bag were two heavy bundles made of white canvas. Straps with metal buckles were attached to each, and dangled as he pulled them off.  
  
“Straitjackets!” Jim said fascinated. “Does the Organisation still work with those? I though we moved on to cuffs and ropes a long time ago?”  
  
“Technically yes” Dave answered. “But according to the information I have, these won't be enough this time. Dean Winchester was once arrested by the police and uncuffed himself in ten seconds using a ballpoint pen. And their father trained them to escape rope as well”. He paused. “But brother Cort explained to you all about straitjackets, right?”  
  
“Of course. Five straps behind to lock the jacket, one strap on the front to lock the arms, one crotch strap to prevent the captive removing the straitjacket like a shirt, and of course the strap at the end of the sleeves to connect the arms together in the back” Jim recited proudly.  
  
“Good. And the color at the collar?” Dave asked, like a professor questioning his best pupil.  
  
“Red stands for “small”, and green for “medium”. Although the straitjackets are tailored very large, so it rather means “large” and “extra-large” “. Jim paused and frowned. “Are they so tall?”  
  
“The green one is for Sam Winchester. Despite being the younger one, he's 6'4”.  
  
“Woah”. Jim dumped the straitjackets on the floor and continued searching in the bag. He picked two leather panels. They each had a rather large leather plug riveted to one side and two straps attached to them.  
  
“Already seen these?” Dave asked.  
  
“Of course. I know what a panel gag looks like and how efficient they are. I tested one myself during training. But are they really necessary here? I mean, we're in the middle of nowhere, no one can hear them”.  
  
“If what I was told about the Winchesters is true, they might prove useful nevertheless”.  
  
“Ah!” exclaimed Jim, as he extracted a pair of metal regulation handcuffs. “Unavoidable” he said, as he slipped one pair into his belt.  
  
“My guess is that you won't even need them”, Dave responded.  
  
“Really, brother? I know straitjackets are efficient, but it's a hell of a fight to put a reluctant captive in it. And even if we're both well trained, it's a two versus two fight here...”  
  
“Yes. Two versus two. But there is no rule in the Brotherhood which says it has to be a fair fight.” Jim gave him a wondering look. “Look in the side pocket”.  
  
The duffel bag was almost empty now, but Jim found some gray rags, and a little brown glass bottle. He took it and read the label. “CHCl3”.  
  
“Oh”, he said, grinning at Dave. “I see”.  
  
Dave returned him his grin. “I think I hear their car. Watch and learn!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: 31/07/16 Fixed many grammar mistakes. Thanks to John for all the corrections :)


	2. Dean's capture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where in spite of his training, Dean gets abducted

Birds flew away as the motor of the Impala roared, the car dashing at full speed. Obviously the driver was speeding, but on the other hand, the road was too narrow to have its own speed limit. Loud music was escaping through the open window. Master of puppets, Metallica.  
  
“Dean, can't we turn it off? Or at least, change the station? You know, there's good stuff that popped after 1990 too!”  
  
“Driver picks the music, Sammy. I thought you already learned that lesson”.  
  
Sam sighed. Oh yes, he had learned it. Three months ago, Dean had him tied up and gagged in the trunk of the Impala just because he insisted on having a silent ride. The jerk forced him to stay hogtied four hours while forcibly to listening the complete playlist of Led Zeppelin through the earphones he had taped over his ears.  
  
Of course Sam had had his revenge too. But both brothers considered it a closed case, and Sam had definitely no intention of re-opening it.  
  
“Besides, we're almost there. Your torment shall end soon, bro!” Dean added in a conciliating tone.  
  
“You really sure Dad could have been here, Dean? Cause you just told me that, you didn't explain much about this cabin”  
  
“Yes, about that… Well, I might have a little bit over-interpreted the clues I have” Dean said with a fake apologetic smile.  
  
Sam sat up straight on the bench. “Over interpreted? How so? And what for? And what clues have you got in the first place?”  
  
“Well, Dad loves being alone and loves walking in the woods. This cabin is the perfect place for him to be”.  
  
Sam scoffed.  
  
“Is that it?”  
  
“Look, Sammy, honestly, Dad was probably never in this county. But if we must be totally honest, we have absolutely no indication of where he could be.”  
  
“That still does not explain what we're doing here.”  
  
“Well, I know this cabin is a safe house for hunters, so it should be quite well-equipped. Besides, I really think we need to settle down and take a break for a little while”.  
  
“So you planned all this for having… a vacation?”  
  
“Am I not an awesome brother?”  
  
Sam sighed and look through the window. One part of him was loudly protesting about this total waste of time. But if he had to be honest, they objectively had no leads to find their father right now; plus, Dean had had a rough time during the last hunt. Maybe he needed some holidays.  
  
“OK, fine. What's the cabin look like?”  
  
“All comforts included” replied Dean with his always-too-confident tone.  
  
Five minutes later and the cabin was in sight. Dean parked the car just in front of the porch.  
  
“I can't believe it” Sam said with a shocked tone.  
  
“I know, it's awesome, right?” Dean replied mockingly.  
  
“Oh, well it's… rustic. Probably all comforts included if you take the 1650 standards”. Sam paused. Then added, worried: “Dean, does this thing even have toilets?”  
  
“It was built two centuries ago in the middle of the woods. What's your guess?”  
  
Sam got out of the car and slammed the door pretty angrily.  
  
“Jerk!”  
  
“Bitch!”.  
  
Dean smiled as he watched his little brother going deep in the woods to take a crap. Indeed he needed some holidays. The last fight against that vampire hadn't gone that well and he'd need some time to fully recover. And he's need his brother support, even if he wouldn't admit that in front of him. This cabin he found mentioned in his dad's old stuff would be the perfect occasion for holidays.  
  
Dean grabbed his duffel bag and went towards the cabin. Lost in his troubled thoughts, he let down his guard and didn't notice immediately that the door was unlocked and that it should not have been. He walked two steps inside the cabin before he felt that something was wrong. He stepped back towards the door, and then noted that there was dust everywhere, except for some spots and trails. Like someone or something had been here very recently.  
  
But he didn't have time to fully process these observations and conclude there was an immediate danger, because he suddenly had more immediate problems to deal with.  
  
Like the hand that was twisting his arm behind his back in a painful arm-lock.  
  
And like the other hand pressing a damp cloth against his nose and mouth.  
  
Dean instantly took a fighting stance. This was not the first surprise attack he had had to counter in his hunting carrier. He immediately identified the sickly sweet fumes that came from the cloth into his nostrils as chloroform. John had him sniff it once while he was a teen, to have him identify the drug and to teach him how to avoid its effects.  
  
Dean recalled his lessons in a blink. Chloroform is a powerful sedative, but does not work that fast. His dad told him he had to take five to six deep breaths to feel its effects. So the first thing you have to do is to block your breathing, then pull away the cloth by any mean.  
  
Caught by surprise, Dean had already sniffed one deep breath, but immediately after he blocked his respiration, as his father had taught him. His free hand was already going to the neck of his assailant to force him to release his catch, but he was quickly intercepted by a third hand which grabbed his wrist and held tight.  
  
They were two. Things suddenly became more complicated.  
  
Dean's head was thrown back, as the first assailant held the cloth firmly. In spite of Dean struggling and twisting his head, he hold on. This wouldn't be that easy.  
  
In the corner of his eye, he could see one of them. His face was obscured by a dark hood. He also sensed a slight draft in the air as they were struggling, like if they were wearing something on their backs. That's it. They were wearing cloaks.  
  
Dean couldn't remember of any such hooded and cloaked guys among his list of foes.  
  
Seconds passed. The three men were still struggling and Dean had to take a second breath. He tried to stomp on his opponent's foot, but the sole of his Chippewa Logger boot only met the rigid contact of a steel-capped heavy leather boot.  
  
Shit! Despite their attire, these guys were serious.  
  
Now things started to get urgent. Dean tried to scratch the hand of the second assailant with his fingernails. He met the elastic contact of a latex glove, but managed to scratch it and dug his nails into flesh.  
  
“Ow!”  
  
His victory was short-lived. Not only the other guys still held the chloroform rag, but this cry of pain was immediately followed by a hard punch in his gut.  
  
Dean didn't see that coming. The blow emptied his lungs and he had to breath again.  
  
His mind started to cloud over and his fingers felt numb, as if he was sitting on his arm. He had no more time. In despair, he tried to yell to warn his brother, but the cloth was pressed too firmly against his mouth, and instead of the loud “SAMMY” he intended to produce, he just let out a muffled “smmmmm-mmmhhy”.  
  
That was foolish. Trying to yell something made his lungs ache for air. One more time, he had to retake his breath.  
  
This one was too much. Unable to focus anymore, he felt all of his muscles going numb, as if he was really very tired after spending one whole day at the gym. He guessed rather than felt his legs yielding below him. A moment later, he was on his knees, and he didn't even want to fight anymore. He just wanted to go to sleep.  
  
He closed his eyes. He didn't reopen them.  
  
\----------------------------------------------------------------  
  
“That was too easy”, Jim said in a whisper.  
  
“We were lucky”, added Dave as he lowered a limp Dean on the floor. “It's far more easy if they come one by one”.  
  
“Did you plan that?”  
  
“I thought there was half a chance. If the two were coming in the same time, we would have had quite a hard time”. He looked at Jim's hand. “And still, the bastard got your hand”.  
  
“It's nothing. It's not even bleeding. He just surprised me”.  
  
“Well...”  
  
“DEAN? IS EVERYTHING ALRIGHT?”  
  
That was Sam yelling from the trees surrounding the clearing. Yet not alarmed, his voice felt a little concerned. Maybe he had heard something after all.  
  
Without any more words, Jim and Dave took position, each hiding against the wall to each side of the door. Jim put a new glove on his injured hand while Dave quickly grabbed his bottle and poured more chloroform on another rag.  
  
Sam was coming.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I've got good returns from the prologue... well, here's the chapter 1.
> 
> Art by the amazing Bowen (http://bowen12a.deviantart.com/)  
> And a little reference to FruitsofLabour 's awesome fanstory. Thanks to him ;)
> 
> Hope you like it. Let me know if I should continue, since I've got more illustrations from Bowen for this series ;) (I didn't forgot the straitjackets and gags^^)
> 
> EDIT: 31/07/16 Fixed many grammar mistakes. Thanks to John for all the corrections :)


	3. Sam's turn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Sam felt into the same trap

Sometimes, Sam really couldn't understand his brother. It was him who had torn him away from his tranquil life as a law student. At this time, the search for Dad was more important than anything, and yet there was room for vacations.

 

Sam sighed. He allowed himself to wander around in the forest a little bit. He had to admit, this place was nice indeed. In other circumstances, it would have been a great place for a little break in retirement. He even perceived a deer in a bush nearby, it fled away as soon as it sensed his presence. Maybe Dean could even teach him how to hunt normal things.

 

It was the timing that worried him. Why now ? Dean seemed as fine as always, with his usual cocky attitude. But on second thoughts, Sam had noticed some changes since their last hunt. He seemed more tired, he wasn't teasing him with the « little brother » stuff anymore... And Sam founded twice as many empty beers as usual the last time he was cleaning the Impala.

 

Maybe big brother had reached his limits after all. Or was Dean fearing something or someone ? Sam eliminated that idea. His brother was not the kind to flee from anything. And even so, he would have told him.

 

So it seemed that for once, it would be Sam watching for his brother.

 

His steps led him back in view of the cabin. Sam though he heard a small shout coming from the cabin. He froze. He wasn't sure of what he had heard; maybe it was just an animal, like a deer in the forest behind the cabin. Or even a bear. But he wasn't sure. It could have been a human muffled scream. It could have been Dean. But they were alone here. He looked at the clearing; the Impala was still there, trunk open, like it was when he had left Dean a few minutes ago.

 

“DEAN? IS EVERYTHING ALRIGHT?”

 

No answers. Although Sam did think he heard some rummaging in the cabin.

 

Maybe he was getting as over-anxious as his brother. That was the second time he thought he had heard something that may not exist at all. But on the other hand, Sam's hunter instinct kept whispering to him that he should consider the fact that there is something going wrong in there.

 

He walked to the front door and gave a quick look inside. It was pitch black.

 

Sam sighed. It was probably Dean making fun of him. So he was supposed to step inside and he would try to scare him by assaulting him or screaming or whatever.  
  


He reached the Impala and took his gun and a flashlight from his bag. He didn't pull off the safety catch though. He wouldn't risk hurting Dean. The aim was just to give him a lesson, like “look, I almost killed you”.

 

Seconds later he was in front of the door. As he walked inside, his eyes quickly getting accustomed to the dark, he swept the room with the ray of his flashlight.

 

That's when he spotted a limp form of the floor. He pointed the flashlight at it.

 

Dean!

 

His reflex was to go to his brother immediately. That's where he let down his guard, and he was instantly punished for this mistake. A hard stroke hit his right wrist painfully, and the reflex made Sam release his hold on his gun, which fell to the floor. Almost instantly, a violent punch in his gut emptied his lungs and made him double up from pain.

 

When he caught his breath he noticed there was something pressed hard on his nose and mouth. A wet handkerchief. Sam could feel sweet fumes entering his nose and going through his lungs.

 

Unlike his brother, Sam wasn't trained by his father so well. In any case, he had never smelled chloroform before and had never been taught how to escape such a situation. Of course in theory he knew what was the substance. But he lost precious seconds trying to understand what was happening to him, precious seconds during which he was inhaling quite a lot of the drug. He was already feeling light-headed when, by reflex, he tried to catch the hand that was pressing the cloth on his face.

 

He never reached it. His wrists was quickly intercepted by a latex gloved hand, and Sam felt the cold grasp of metal circling around his wrists. He turned his head as far as he could, and spotted a hooded figure holding his wrist, a pair of handcuffs dangling from it.

 

That's when Sam made a second mistake. Instead of trying to get rid of the chloroform as quickly as possible, he tried to avoid having his other hand cuffed, forgetting about the drug. To no avail of course; in spite of his struggling, his assailant took his other wrist in a painful arm-lock, and within seconds he felt the steel cuff ratcheting around his other wrist.

 

Now his hands were locked behind his back and he still had to breathe in the damned cloth. Sam knew how to get rid of handcuffs, but not during a struggle and not while he was being drugged. He had now inhaled too much chloroform and his head started to spin, and his limbs started to feel very weak. One of his captor put his arms around his throat and got his mouth close to Sam's ear.

 

“Sshhhh. Relax, Sammy. We will take care of you and your big brother. You're really valuable to us”.

 

Holy shit. How come this guy knew his name? And how dare he call him Sammy?

 

Sam realized that he didn't care anymore. His legs and arms were floppy, they were so heavy he couldn't lift them anymore, even if he hadn't been cuffed. He felt himself falling to the floor, being retained by these two guys.

 

“That's it. One last deep breath”.

 

Sam barely heard him. His eyes were flickering, then closing. He didn't remember anything after that.

 

*

 

Dave let a limp Sam fall on the floor. He held the chloroformed-soaked rag on Sam's face for ten more seconds, then threw it away. Sam was now peacefully asleep on the floor, just beside his brother.

 

“Told you. Handcuffs weren't necessary”.

 

“Still” Jim replied. “Didn't want to take any risk with that sasquatch. And at least, this one didn't scratch my hand”. He paused. “What are we doing with them?”

 

“We still need to secure them for the ride”.

 

“I know, I mean… back at the Temple”.

 

“You know there is only two ways with our targets. Sacrifice or conversion”.

 

“And that would be...”

 

“The Master will decide. But I doubt he wanted them so hard just to have them sacrificed”.

 

“Conversion will be hard, if what you were telling me about this guys is true”.

 

“Have faith in the Master”, Dave learnedly said while stripping Dean's jacket off. “He has his methods. Here, give me that straitjacket, would you? We don't have that much time before they wake up”.

 

Jim went to their duffel bag and grabbed the white bundle. He held it wide open, its straps dangling from the sleeves and from the back, ready to embrace Dean's body.

 

“With pleasure”, he said smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's chapter 2. Sorry if it seems a little redundant, but I couldn't let Sam escape. Poor Sammy^^
> 
> As always, comments are very welcomed! There's more to come if you still like it!
> 
> Art from Bowen12a , on commission.
> 
> EDIT: 06/08/2016 Fixed many grammar mistakes. Thanks to John for all the corrections :) (Smile)


	4. Straitjacketed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Dean and Sam meet straitjackets

Dean’s sleep wasn’t tranquil. On the verge of consciousness, he vaguely felt someone taking off his jacket, then putting him in a sitting position. He wasn’t fully asleep, not anymore, nor could he awaken fully. The chloroform still running through his system and clouding his mind prevented that.

 

He sensed rather than felt his right arm guided through something stiff and rough… a sleeve or something. Then his right arm. Then his whole chest was encased in the same matter. Loose at first, then it grew tighter and tighter. Like a warm cocoon keeping him safe. Or a blanket warming him during his sleep. At the same time, he felt something being wrapped around his ankles, just above his boots.

 

Dean didn’t want to wake up. He felt like he was in the morning, when the sun was rising and softly waking him up, but that he didn't have to get up. Not scared of being stabbed during his sleep by some freak or monster. Not in the rush of a hunt. Just happy to laze in his bed, knowing he would spend a nice vacation day with his beloved brother. How much time had flow by, since he felt such a sensation?

 

But there was an alarm bell trying to ring in a corner of his brain, telling him something wasn’t right at all. Dean tried to ignore it. Then he felt something being passed through his crotch, then being tightened, hitting his cock. The alarm rang louder and louder, trying to attract his attention. Reluctantly, he managed to laboriously open one eye, extracting himself a little bit from the fog that clouded his brain.

 

He spotted a limp form on the floor right below him. A human form he knew well.

 

SAM!

 

Adrenaline rushed into his organism, getting rid of the fumes of chloroform like a giant smoke extractor.

 

At the very same time, Dean felt his arms being brutally wrenched around his body.

 

*

“Just in time”, thought Dave. He just clicked shut the sleeve strap buckle in time. At the same instant, the hunter made a small jump and took a deep breath, like he was shocked with a Taser or like someone just threw him a bucket of iced water in the face. Too late.

 

Now all Dave had to do was to adjust the straps he had buckled a little too rushy. Collar strap a little bit looser, he didn’t want to choke is prey. The crotch strap, however, seemed a little too loose…

 

*

Dean had a lot of information to process.

 

He was hugging himself and he didn’t know why. His arms wouldn’t move.

 

His legs couldn’t move either.

 

His little brother was lying limp on the floor in front of him. He could see his hands were cuffed in his back. Some hooded guy was approaching him.

 

Everything came back into his mind in a flash. The attack, the chloroform, the struggle, the vain attempt to warn Sam.

 

He had to get out of there.

 

“What... the… fuuuck?!?”

 

His mouth was furry. He croaked rather than spoke. However, after gulping a little more air, he sensed his forces coming back.

 

“Hey! I’m talking to you, Halloween-boy! What the fuck is that? Who the fuck are you? Hey? HEY!”

 

He sensed the presence of the second guy – Dave – as he felt the crotch strap tightened, once again rubbing his cock uncomfortably through his jeans. As a reflex, Dean tried to knock him away with a head-butt. But since he was straitjacketed and struck blindly, Dave easily dodged that.

 

It was only then that Dean gave a look at his own body. He only saw thick white canvas encasing his body from shoulders to his hips. Not to mention the two thick leather straps binding his ankles. “What the...” he thought, before the answer hit him. Straitjacket! Of course he knew what these things looked like – he had chased enough freaks or monsters in asylums to know. But he hadnever found himself strapped in one.

 

That was okay. He was trained by his father to escape anything. He knew tricks to get rope loose, he knew tricks to unlock handcuffs in a minute with the point of a pen. Getting loose of a straitjacket shouldn’t be more difficult, considering how easy this Houdini guy managed that.

 

He just needed time to assess his situation. Time he didn’t have right now. Their second captor – Jim – was just wrapping a similar belt around Sam’s ankles. Now he was putting him in a sitting position, unlocking his cuffs, then removing his jacket. Dean noticed another bundle of white canvas and straps in the corner of the room. Sam let out a little moan.

 

“Hey listen, you motherfucker! You touch one hair of my brother and I swear to god, I’ll kick your ass so hard you’ll never want to sit again. YOU HEAR ME? GET OFF HIM!!!”

 

Jim heard him perfectly. He just didn’t seem to care. Remaining silent, he grabbed the remaining straitjacket, starting to adjust it over Sam’s shoulders, guiding Sam’s arms into the closed sleeves.

 

Seeing his little brother still free, Dean took his chance and started shouting.

 

“SAM! SAM! WAKE UP! SAM, GO ON, PLEASE”.

 

At the sound of his brother calling, Sam briefly opened one eye.

 

“Dean?” his voice was just a whisper. He was still having trouble to make any word come out clearly. “Whaat… is…. going on…?”

 

Clearly the chloroform hadn't completely worn off. Dean just renewed his shouting, struggling futilely in his straitjacket, his legs bumping on the floor.

 

“SAM, COME ON! OKAY YOU KNOW WHAT, SON OF BITCHES? I DON’T KNOW WHO YOU ARE OR WHAT YOU WANT, AND MAYBE YOU THINK YOU MIGHT SCARE SOMEONE WITH THE FANCY CLOAKS OF YOURS, BUT I SWEAR TO GOD YOU’RE DEAD, OKAY? YOU BETTER START RUNNING RIGHT NOW BECAUSE THE SECOND I GET OUT...”

 

“Brother?”

 

Dave spoke. He was done with Dean’s straitjacket for a moment but was still behind Dean. He didn’t shout, but the unexpected answer shut Dean up for a few seconds.

 

“Yes?” the other cultist replied.

 

“Do you see the necessity of the gag now?”

 

Jim didn’t reply, but Dean clearly saw his smile behind the hood.

 

“Gag? What the…? Oh no, don’t you dare gag me, I swear DON’T YOU DARE GMMMMPPPHHHMMMMMMMMRRMMMMMhhhmmmmmmm!!!!!”

 

With his mouth opened to shout, Dean couldn’t prevent the panel gag Dave was holding being brutally pushed into his mouth. Without leaving any chance for Dean to spit it out, Dave quickly locked the leather strap going around the gag behind Dean’s head.

 

The gag was huge. Behind the panel laid a thick bulb of plastic which completely filled the whole of Dean’s mouth, almost touching his epiglottis and definitely blocking his tongue beneath it. The bulb narrowed where it was sewed to the panel, allowing Dean to close his mouth around it. It was like he had a big apple in his mouth. A big apple made of silicone, tasting awful, that he couldn’t bite nor spit out. The panel part, however, was made of supple leather; it completely embraced the form of his face as Dave tightened the strap of the gag, sealing Dean’s lips shut. He felt as if someone was handgagging him with a leather glove.

 

As Dave adjusted the strap of Dean’s gag, pulling at it to its tightest hole, Dean’s threatening shouts became gradually indistinguishable, then the shouts themselves were reduced to muffled grunts.

 

Now forcibly silenced, he watched on helplessly as his little brother was being wrapped in the straitjacket, his arm in their sewed sleeves dangling lifelessly at his sides. Though Sam opened his eyes, he still seemed unaware of his condition. Dean thought he had to react; the bastard strapping Sam up had already got two straps done. He tried another time to attract his brother’s attention, stomping out loudly on the floor with his boots, trying to shout at him behind the gag, only producing an unconvincing “mmmmmmmhhrrrrmm”.

 

It was enough to attract Sam’s attention though. His eyes started to focus, as if a veil was pulled off. Too late, however. As he started to lift an arm, Jim firmly took hold of them, forcibly crossed them below the chest strap of the straitjacket. Before Sam had time to react, he grabbed the straps of the sleeves and buckled them together.

 

Sam was straitjacketed.

 

“What the fuck?” he exclaimed, finally understanding his predicament. “Who… hey, don’t touch me!” he shouted as Jim was buckling the crotch strap, definitely sealing Sam in the jacket, and roughing his private parts in the process. “Dean! Dean, what the...?” . He stopped as he saw his brother looking at him both furiously and helplessly, his mouth held shut by a thick piece of leather buckled behind his head.

 

“OH FUCK!” sam exclaimed. “WHO THE HELL ARE YOU GUYS? LET US GO NOW!! I WAAAAGGHHHMMMMMMMMMRMMMMMMmmmmmm…”.

 

“Sorry, we already heard that speech”, Jim said as he was pushing a similar panel gag deep into Sam’s mouth. Soon he was gagged just like his brother, chewing on the huge bulb that occupied his mouth, reduced to small whimpers. Sam turned his head to Dean, maybe he tried to say something, but the sound he produced sounded like the one of a frightened little child.

 

The sight of his brother brutally gagged and manhandled put Dean into frenzy. He tried to stand up, giving unintelligible threats behind his gag, shaking his head back and forth as if he’d try to dislodge it, trying to pull his arms out of the sleeves of his straitjacket, only producing a swishing sound as he wriggled futilely into his restraints, the canvas of the sleeves rubbing against the canvas of the straitjacket.

 

A firm hand pressed on his shoulder. Dave kneel against him, approaching his mouth close to his ear, so close that Dean could feel the material of his hood against his head.

 

“Quiet now!” he whispered. “We’re taking you to your dad. Isn’t that what you want?”

 

Dean chilled immediately. Dad? How come that this bastard knew of his dad? Had he been captured by these fellows too? Is that why he had been missing for months? For God’s sake, who the hell were these guys? They were not acting on their own, for sure, but Dean couldn’t believe he hadn't heard of this organization before. If Dad had been messing with these guys, surely he would have warned them.

 

As he was dealing with all of these questions, Jim, finally satisfied with Sam’s bindings, stood up.

 

“Brother, can you watch them while I bring back the van?”

 

Dave did not respond immediately. Instead he grabbed Dean’s abandoned hoodie, searched in its pockets, and finally found a tiny pair of keys. He smiled.

 

“I think I have a better idea!”.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally I completed the sequel of my story. It was quite long to write (and I was busy at other things during the period), but I like the result and I have lots of fun writing it. 
> 
> So here you go, Sam and Dean Winchester tied up in straitjackets and gagged. As promised :p
> 
> Of course it's not the end of the story. At least, if you tell me you like it so far...
> 
> Art as usual from the awesome Bowen12a . Words from me ;)
> 
> EDIT: 06/08/16 Fixed many grammar mistakes. Thanks to John for all the corrections :) (Smile)
> 
> Comments and critics are very welcomed, as always!!


	5. Abducted

“We can take their car instead. We’ll drive together to where we left the van, then we’ll split up and take back both vehicles to the Temple” Dave explained.

 

Hearing that caused Dean to shout a renewed bunch of insults and protests. Of course, the gag did its job and all that could be heard were angry muffled grunts.

 

“It would be a shame to abandon such an amazing car, I agree”, said Jim thoughtfully. “However, how can we transport these two in the van? I’m not comfortable sitting next to them. Even restrained as they are”, he added after glancing at Dean, who was still struggling wildly.

 

“No need. According to our research, the trunk of their old crate is large enough to contain a body. I even suspect that these two chose this car for this feature. Anyway, when there’s room for one, there’s room for two...”

 

“MMM MHHMOU MMA MMMHH MMWWAHHH MMM MMMOMM MM M MMM”

 

What Dean was trying to say was “How dare you talk about my baby like this, you son of a bitch”. Of course the outcome was nothing understandable, his tongue being blocked by the thick plastic in his mouth.

 

Sam, on the other hand, tried to think rationally. Now that the chloroform had worn off his mind, he tried to calm down and assess his situation as calmly as possible. He still had no idea of who or what their captors are connected to, and judging by Dean’s angry and incoherent shouting, neither did he. He wouldn’t act like this if he knew who they were dealing with. Sam knew his brother, he knew that what was frustrating him so much was that he had been overpowered by some strangers.

 

Sam focused on what their two captors had just said. Dumping them in the trunk of the Impala would mean that they would lay on the false bottom, just above the secret compartment where they stocked all their weapons, including sharp knives and blades. Even if that would be uncomfortable being dumped in there and in straitjackets, this could be the best chance of getting lose of their restraints.

 

Of course, Dean reacted only on instinct and only heard that his baby was gonna be stolen. Sam tried to catch his brother’s eye, to make him understand his plan. He grunted a little and exchanged a glance with Dean, looking quickly at the floor. Dean returned him a confused look, but then he seemed to understand and discretely nodded at his brother.

 

The “conversation” wasn’t unnoticed by the two cultists though. Dave quickly said:

 

“They’re right! Brother, come with me, we must get rid of all the weapons they hide in the false bottom of their trunk”.

 

“CRAP”, thought both Sam and Dean at the same time.

 

Jim and Dave left the cabin. Dean heard them go to the Impala and start unloading their weapons. He knew every sound his car could made.

 

The two brothers didn’t waste any time though. Now that they were both awake and alone, they tried to exchange as much information as possible. Dean and Sam knew each other very well, and they didn’t necessarily have to speak to tell each other something. Only by glances and nods of the head, they confirmed to each other that they didn’t know where their captors come from of their captors, that they didn’t know why the menknew so much about them, and that they didn’t know how to escape a straitjacket.

 

Of course, anybody in the room would just have heard some muffled gagged sounds, mostly “MMMMMHHH”, sometimes “GRRRMMPPHH”, and even a “AAAHHRRMMHH”. But the brothers did nonetheless understand each other. For the most part of what they were trying to “say”, at least. The two brothers managed to let each other know that they were feeling okay, apart from the remaining effects of the chloroform, and that they had no idea who their captors were. But Dean didn’t manage to make Sam understand that one of the hooded guys had talked to him about their dad.

 

Dean decided to focus on his straitjacket. At first he was confident that he could escape easily. What he knew about these things was they were not used any longer and that they couldn't be reliable. A tourist attraction, and that was it.

 

He was soon forced to reconsider his opinion. He quickly understood through his struggling that the crossed sleeves were connected in his back, so he tried to pass them over his head. But that was not counting withthe front strap, which was precisely designed to counter this move. Dean then wriggled and tried to pull the straitjacket over his head, like a mere pullover, but a sharp pain coming from his balls reminded him of the pelvic strap. He then tried to reverse the move and to put his head in the fabric, but the jacket was strapped way too tightly over his chest and at his neck for that.

 

Meanwhile, Sam took some time to study his restraints. Having Dean besides him helped him, his straitjacket was like a mirror of his own. Unlike his brother who immediately started fighting the jacket, Sam decided not to waste his energy. He instantly understood the purpose of each strap, including the side loops, so he knew before he tried that Dean’s attempts were bound to fail. In other circumstances, the grunt Dean let out when he pulled on the crotch strap would even have made Sam laugh.

 

With the hunts, Sam learned from Dean that the “shoot first, think after” strategy was often the good one. In fact, without that approach, he would have been killed more than once. He still remembered that ghoul’s scratch on his shoulder and was glad Dean hadn't hesitated to shoot it. But here and now, this strategy wouldn't work. Clearly, despite their attire and their odd restraints, these guys knew how to subdue a man.

 

Sam made a new set of grunts behind his gag, attracting Dean’s attention. At the same time, he used his bound legs to crawl on the floor into Dean’s direction. Dean understood his brother’s move in a blink and moved too, presenting the back of his straitjacket to his brother.

 

Sam positioned himself behind Dean. “That’s not looking good” was his first thought. He had hoped that the jacket would have been strapped with roller buckles, like the straps binding his ankles. They are easier to lock but also easier to remove. Instead, what he was looking at were slider buckles, which all seem tightly and conscientiously strapped. Sam now understood why it took a little while to completely lock the straitjacket on him and why he had had time to wake up before the process was complete. Their captors had taken their time to put on the restraints properly, which also meant they didn't intend to release them soon.

 

Sam realized it made perfect sense. Even if these guys had known they were trained to remove handcuffs, if they had just wanted to immobilize them or interrogate them, they would have used some extra-secure iron restraints. Or strong duct tape. Or even ropes; Dean and he usually escaped these, but that was mainly because they were never properly bound and the knots weren’t good. These guys knew what they were doing, they could have secured them in less time with these. But all of these restraints can cause damage if they’re worn for too long. Not the straitjacket. Thinking of it, Sam realized that it was just an item of clothing, except that its purpose was not to keep him warm but to immobilize his arms. not by biting into his wrists like handcuffs would have. Not by cutting his blood flow like ropes would do. Not by rubbing the skin like duct tape. Just by forcing him to hug himself. A pretty comfortable position, if you thought about it.

 

Sam got rid of these thoughts. The perspective of spending – what, hours? days? - like this ~~is~~ was anything but comfortable. He focused on trying to loosen Dean’s jacket ~~s~~. Since his ankles were bound, he tried to catch a strap of Dean’s straitjacket between his knees, and then loosen it enough to give Dean a little bit more flexibility. Of course, it would have been far more easier if he had been able to use his teeth. Sam understood now the reason for the gag; it was not only to mute Dean’s insults or prevent communication, it also prevented them physically using their mouths and teeth against the straitjackets. A simple bandanna tied over or in their mouths wouldn’t have been enough, nor a simple strap of duct tape which usually went loose with saliva.

 

The gag he had in his mouth was also made for long-term, Sam realized. It would be just as effective in some hours as now. Sam chewed a little on the bulb filling his mouth and blocking his tongue. He had to. The spherical piece of silicone was so big that it would have make Sam drool otherwise. Sam had a big mouth, and yet the gag left almost no empty space in his oral cavity. Many guys couldn’t have stood this gag. “Like they know exactly which size to take”, thought Sam. It was not especially uncomfortable though. The shape of the bulb let Sam close his mouth around it. But the leather panel tightly pressed over his lips by a strap going behind his head gave him no hope of spitting it out.

 

He forced himself to focus. He almost caught a strap between his knees. In fact, he had one but it slipped before he had time to pull it over. He tried again and again. “This is taking too long”, he thought, “at this pace,I won’t...”

 

“I’m sorry boys, are we interrupting something?” the sarcastic voice of Dave asked.

 

Both Dean and Sam grunted in frustration. That was a plan doomed to fail anyway, thought Sam. In fact, if he were honest, that wasn’t an escape plan at all.

 

“Should we chloroform them again, brother?” Jim asked his companion.

 

“Nah. One should not use this stuff too much, it’s a heavy drug… and we don’t want to damage them. Look at them, in spite of their struggles, they’re just bound as snug as before… we just need a little adjustment. Wait a second...” he said as he rummaged in their duffel bag.

 

“Interesting”, Sam noticed to himself. “There seems to be a hierarchy between them… This one even seems to be a rookie in fact”.

 

He was interrupted in his thoughts by Dave finally finding what he was looking for. He was holding something little and black in his hands. Two of them, in fact. Sam saw him giving one of these things to Jim, but didn’t catch what it was.

 

Dean however seemed to understand, because he started to struggle once more.

 

“Sssshhh… just relax”, Dave said to him.

 

Sam didn’t see much more. His world went black as Jim strapped the leather blindfold he was carrying over his eyes.

 

“Crap! Without seeing each other, communication is gonna be really complicated now”. Sam noticed that this wasn’t just a simple blindfold that could easily be slipped off. This one, like his gag, had a strap going behind his head with a roller buckle. Jim was busy strapping it tight. He then checked that the leather eyepads were correctly positioned over Sam’s eyes. They were; no light could reach Sam’s eyes.

 

He was effectively blindfolded.

 

Then, as Sam thought his predicament couldn’t get worse, he felt the cultist unexpectedly tousling his long hair and landing a soft kiss at the back of his neck. The entire action only took a blink.

 

“WHAT THE FUCK??? GET OFF!” yelled Sam. Of course, the gag did it’s job and it sounded like a “mmmmhhhaaaa mmm mmuu?? mmmmnnhh mmmoonnnnn”. Dean heard it but had no clue what had just happened, being blindfolded as well.

 

“Ok guys. Time to go!” Dave announced. “This one first, brother”, he said to Jim, pointing at Dean.

 

Sam felt his brother being taken away. He couldn’t see him, but he felt the cultists lifting him off the ground and he heard his muffled protests as he was dragged outside. They returned shortly after.

 

“Ok big boy. Your turn”.

 

Sam felt a couple of hands taking him under his armpits, while the other cultist took hold of his strapped legs. They lifted him off the ground and carried him outside. Sam couldn’t see any change in the lightning, the blindfold was too efficient for that, but he felt the fresh autumn air on his face. He heard his brother's mumblings, getting louder.

 

“Stay down, Dean”, one of the cultists said with an amused tone, “You’re not going anywhere!”

 

 

Then Sam was roughly dumped into a confined space. He tried to adjust his position, and his face immediately made harsh contact with his brother’s logger shoe. Meanwhile, as he adjusted his legs, he realized he had just kicked his brother’s face with his boot, which caused Dean to let out a little whimper, almost entirely muffled by the gag.

 

He was leaning against Dean.

 

They were in the trunk of the Impala!

 

“Have a nice trip, boys!” Dave taunted them, before slamming the trunk shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At least I managed to release the next chapter.
> 
> Please tell me what you think. Comments and critics are as always very well appreciated! If I get positive reviews, I'll try to write the next chapter quicker ;)
> 
> Story by me, art from @Bowen12a (see his work on DeviantArt!). And thanks a lot to John for all the corrections!


	6. Transported

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Dean and Sam have a trip to their captor's lair

Jim climbed into the passenger side of the Impala. Dave followed him shortly after and sat behind the wheel. He started the engine and carefully engaged the first gear. The car didn’t make a fuss. “Dean really loves his car, considering how he looks after it”, Dave thought as he slowly drove the Impala back onto the forest road.

 

“I saw you, you know” he suddenly addressed Jim.

 

“What?”

 

“When you were blindfolding Sam!”

 

“Oh… Uh…..” Jim wriggled on the seat, obviously uncomfortable. “Well, brother, I...”

 

“You didn’t forget your commitment toward the Brotherhood, did you?”

 

“Of course not!” protested Jim. “My life belongs now to the Brotherhood”, he recited. “My duty is to act for the salvation of mankind and I will do so by fulfilling the will of our Master. I will not let me be distracted of my duty by anyone or anything; the Brotherhood is my only family now”.

 

Jim instinctively put his hand over his crotch. When he had lent this soft kiss onto his prey’s neck, he had felt the little pain that already reminded him of his condition. But was he guilty just for that? Just for looking?

 

“But Brother, you have to admit… This Sam guy is sexy as hell – I mean, that’s a poor choice of words, but don’t you agree?”

 

Dave gave him a severe look. Jim thought he had gone too far; he was still a novice in the Brotherhood and, although he understood that sexual intercourse was forbidden, but there’s always a yellow line separating what’s truly forbidden and what’s tolerated. He suspected now that he had involuntarily crossed it. Now Dave will report that to the Elders. Jim was already picturing his punishment when Dave suddenly burst out laughing.

 

“Oh, you look so worried! Don’t worry Brother, as long as you don’t ask him to marry you, there’s nothing wrong with playing a little with your victims” Dave winked at him.

 

Jim couldn’t hide a sigh of relief.

 

“Besides”, Dave continued, “both are hot. I’d say I’d prefer Dean; not too comfortable with too tall guys, and he has such energy… So, our mission is not over yet, but let’s say the hardest part is done. What did you think of your first hunt?”

 

“It’s like… it’s difficult to describe, but it felt so… empowering!”

 

“How so?”

 

“Well, taking down such mighty guys. You know, we were told they were dangerous and skilled, and now they are at our mercy, completely tied up and helpless. Look at Sam! He was so tall, so mighty, he had a gun in his hand, and yet, I managed to cuff his hands, I felt him going limp in our arms as he was chloroformed, I put a straitjacket on him, I reduced him to silence Now I feel... so strong! Like I never was in my former life”.

 

Jim was enthusiastic. Dave grinned at him.

 

“So was I after my first capture. And I still am today. From the minute I joined the Brotherhood, I have nerver regretted giving up my former life. And the feeling you described, you can never feel that way outside… Ah, here we are”.

 

They arrived at the place where they had left their van. Dave stopped the car and opened the door.

 

“Go ahead, take the wheel!” he invited Jim.

 

“Woah! Really?”

 

“Sure, why not? I’ll follow you with the van, and we stay in contact with the walkies-talkies!”

 

Jim didn’t need further invitation. This car was so awesome!

 

***

The atmosphere was not as relaxed in the boot of the Impala. The trunk was conceived to carry a body, Sam and Dean have sometimes used it to carry a demon after having drawn a restraining sigil on its top. In fact, Sam suspected Dean and their father had chosen this car among others for this feature.

 

But it was never meant to carry _two_ prisoners. And surely not two strong young men 6,3” and 6,1” tall, gagged and engulfed in straitjackets! Sam and Dean were literally packed as mere luggage. Although the trunk was not airtight, it soon became very hot and both brothers had difficulty to breathe properly. The strict gagging they were submitted too was surely not helping!

 

They tried to adjust their position at first, but since they were placed top to tail, they only managed to give each other some nice kicks with their booted feet and didn’t really get anywhere. They quickly realized that even if they were not so tightly straitjacketed and even if their legs were free, the space was so restricted that they could barely move no matter what. Let alone have any hope of escaping.

 

“Crap”, thought Sam, “we’re really fucked. We were supposed to be the best hunters in the country – at least, that was what Dean claimed. But now we have let ourselves be captured and put in the trunk of our own car like two rookies”. Despite his predicament, he tried to stay logical and to gather any information he could. He tried to understand what the two cultists were discussing, but with the humming of the motor and the grunts Dean persisted to produce behind his gag, he couldn’t distinguish any words.

 

After a short while, the car stopped and he heard the door slams. “They must have arrived at their own vehicle”, San understood, “they surely didn’t come hereon foot. Are we going to be transported to it?”. He quickly got his answer as the Impala started up again. He then tried to remember the changes of direction to keep track of their route, but he quickly realized how futile it was; after 15 minutes he had already lost track, and according to their captors, they were going for a long trip.

 

Dean, on the other hand, mainly focused on the way they treated their car. At first it seemed okay, but after a short while, it seemed they had switched the driver. This one was far too much rough for his baby. “Fuck! If he continues like that, he’d have broken the suspensions and the gear within 50 miles!”.

 

Another hard curve. Dean heard a crack come from somewhere in the engine.

 

“HEY! TAKE CARE, YOU LITTLE PIECE OF SHIT! SLOW DOWN”.

 

It was doubtful Jim even noticed the faint “mmh! Mmmh mmmrh, mmou mmmmehhh mmmmeee mmm mmmemhmm! MMMhhh Mmmmommm!” coming out of Dean’s mouth.

 

Listening to his car was a mere pretext for Dean for not to think of his predicament. He did though, after a while. This mess was his fault. He had let himself – and Sam – be captured by some idiots. He hadn’t been able to protect Sam as he had sworn to do. Now he was here, immobilized in the boot of his own car, with his brother, unable to do ANYTHING. This though was driving him crazy. He was the older brother, he had to show confidence, to take the actions, to protect the family. He had now failed miserably. Lying there blindfolded and gagged with his brother was so humiliating. Dean was about to fall into despair but got rid of it with anger.

 

These goons had better kill him, because if not, as soon as he got rid of this straitjacket, he was gonna kill them all. One by one.

 

 

Exhausted by the lack of air and their forced immobility, both brothers doze off after a while.

 

***

 

They were both woken up by a series of zigzags in the road. Neither Sam nor Dean could tell how much time they had spent in the trunk. Hours, probably. But the road seemed to be at the end now. The Impala slowed down after the last bend, then stopped for a few minutes. It started up again, but much more cautiously, and soon came to what must be their final stop as the driver cut the engine.

 

Sam heard footsteps around the car. Then, finally, the trunk was opened.

 

Fresh air!

 

Well, it was not that fresh. Although Sam couldn’t see anything because of the blindfold – which was still strapped as snugly as before – he could clearly smell that they were not on the outside anymore. Instead, he smelled the faint scents of oil and rubber. A garage? Or an underground parking lot?

 

“Last stop, boys! Hope you enjoyed your ride!” a teasing Jim told him.

 

Two muffled grunts were his answers.

 

“Sam first”, David spoke.

 

Sam again felt two pair of hands taking hold of him. They pulled him out of the trunk; this time, he wasn’t carried far away though. Almost immediately, he was forcibly seated and held still while he felt straps binding him to the chair again. First over the straitjacket, then over and below his knees. Straps over straps. A small motion of his chair let him know that he was sitting in a wheelchair.

 

“Jeez!” Sam thought. “Even restrained as we are and in their lair, they won’t allow us to walk. Are they just paranoid, or are we considered so dangerous?”

 

Sam then heard Dean being extracted as well. He guessed rather than heard similar straps being used to restrain him on another wheelchair. What he heard on the other hand were Dean curses and threats he was trying to make to his captors. Usually Dean’s threats could be quite impressive, but when muffled by a restricting gag, the “mmmmhhh-mmmhhrrhh” he managed to produce was more pathetic than anything else. He was just given quick chuckles in response.

 

 

He is now restrained in his chair just like his brother.

 

“Let’s go” declared Dave.

 

The two cultists began to push their seated prisoners. Sam could feel the change of environment; they left the garage to what must be a corridor with more neutral odors, then he felt the vibration of an elevator taking them below. When it stopped, the smells there indicated a rather old construction… of old stone walls and even saltpeter. During all the ride, he had heard no sound; their captors hadn’t spoken to each other and, if there were other people around, they hadn’t spoken to them either. Sam could only hear occasional grunts coming from Dean, who, he guessed, was testing the straps binding him to the chair.

 

At this point, Sam knew this was futile.

 

They finally came to a stop. Sam felt the straps binding him to the chair being loosened. Seconds later, he was removed from the chair and forced to kneel on the cold stone floor. Two strong hands pressing over his shoulder prevented him from even trying to stand up or to fall on his side – his legs were still bound together. He heard Dean being treated the same way just right next to him.

 

“Let them see”, a deep and authoritative voice ordered.

 

Sam knew this voice.

 

His blindfold was removed the same time as Dean’s.

 

Both brothers blinked as the faint light of the room entered their eyes.

 

This time, their simultaneous exclamation was understandable despite the gags.

 

“MMMDAAADHH!”

 

Smiling, John Winchester looked at his helpless sons.

 

“Hello boys. It’s been a while!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally the next chapter of the brotherhood story, featuring the Winchester brothers... in straitjackets!
> 
> Sorry for the long wait. I know some of you were kept pushing me for the next chapter!
> 
> Please feel free to comment or criticize. It really helps me find the motivation.
> 
> I hope to deliver the next chapter sooner than this one... if you still like the direction where it's going :)
> 
> Thanks so much to Bowen12a for the art and John for the language corrections!


	7. Processed

« MMMAAAPPHHH !!! MMPPHHPPP MMOOOUMM MMAAMMHH !!? »

 

« MMMMHH !!! GRRMMMPPHHH !! MMPPHHAAMM ??! »

 

The moment of stupefaction passed, Sam and Dean started to struggle anew, absolutely confused of the reason their dad is looking at them so helpless without doing anything else than smirking at them. Dean tried to wriggle, but was again firmly reminded of his condition by Dave’s hand on his shoulders.

 

“Quiet now, boys!” John ordered with his usual commanding tone.

 

Surprisingly, both brothers actually chilled down.

 

“Now, sons… I know you have many questions, and I promise I shall answer them when the time is appropriate. I apologize for your abduction, but given the training I gave you, there is nothing you wouldn’t survive. You were never in danger, and I doubt you’d have followed my brothers willingly”.

 

Dean and Sam thoughts were similar: “What? Does that mean he was the one behind all this? But.. why? And why is he referring to these two as “brothers”? I don’t understand...”

 

“… I’m actually quite surprised you let them catch you so easily, Dean”, John continued with a more severe tone. “I guess the training I gave you was not enough… or maybe you were just slacking off. Anyway, Dave and Jim, I shall congratulate you. Abducting my boys wasn’t an easy task at all, and you managed without even getting the slightest injury”.

 

“Thank you, Elder!” replied Dave with a proud voice. Jim just looked at the ground. It was a first mission, he wasn’t used to receiving compliments from an Elder at all and didn’t know what to say; moreover, he didn’t want John to note that his face was blushing under his hood.

 

“MMMMPHHHH!!!! MMAAAMMRGGGHH!!”

 

“Patience, Dean! I told you, I’ll answer you soon. But I’ll start with your brother first. I think Sam is more receptive; I feel a lot of anger in you, Dean, as usual, so I’ll let you cool down for a moment!”

 

“BMMPPHH MMPHHAAA!” Dean tried to protest vainly behind his gag, shaking his arms in the straitjacket; at least, as much as the tight straps let him, which is not much. The message was clear though.

 

“Sorry Dean, I won’t let you go now; I don’t trust your reactions if you arms were free right now. By the way – he looked at Dave – the straitjacket is an interesting choice of restraint. Why these?”

 

“Well, Elder...”, Dave replied, “you told us they were trained to remove handcuffs or chains, so this wasn’t an option for the transport; I didn’t trust my ropes neither, as they are skilled in knots too. Besides, they were transported together and could have undone each other’s knots with enough time. The straitjacket, on the contrary, is quite irremovable, and yet comfortable enough for long-term wearing”.

 

“Yeah, if you’re not dumped in the boot of a car with your brother for six hours”, angrily thought Sam. He couldn’t vocalize that though, and just emitted a faint grunt.

 

Regardless of the interruption, John said: “Clever. But putting a straitjacket over a reluctant prisoner is quite impossible though. How did you trick them?”

 

Dave shrugged his shoulders. “Chloroform”, he simply added.

 

John sighed. “Dean was supposed to know how to avoid that too...”

 

“We were lucky. We managed to catch them by surprise and one by one”, Dave honestly said.

 

“I see… maybe you were, but they were at least equally careless. Again, Dean, I’m quite disappointed!”.

 

Dean just moaned faintly. What could he answer with the thick plastic bulb filling his mouth anyway?

 

“Well, time to proceed, sons… Jim, Dave, I’ll handle Sam and led him to the conversion room. You take Dean and led him to a… waiting room.”

 

Dean protested anew in his straitjacket, making angry noises, balancing uselessly his body from right to left.

 

“…. a comfortable one”, added his father with a smile.

 

“Understood, Elder!” Dave replied.

 

Jim and Dave, perfectly synchronized, took hold of both restrained brothers under their armpits and started dragging them back to their respective chair. Dean struggled once more, trying to dislodge his gag, pushing the plug with all his jaw muscle. For a brief moment he thought he might succeed, managing to push the bulb and showing his teeth… before the unforgiving strap pushed it back fully into his mouth.

 

“Sorry Dean”, John said after watching his futilely attempt, “but it really wouldn’t be appropriate to let you two chat before… the process. So I have to keep you incommunicado while I take care of Sammy. The gag stays on, Dean!”, he concluded with his authoritative tone. It sounded like a final sentence.

 

Sam and Dean were now sitting on the wheelchairs again. This time not being blindfolded, Sam could rapidly glance at the straps, to notice that they were unforgiving. There were heavy black bands of strong canvas that seemed really well affixed to the chairs. They definitely won’t be able to stand up without permission to do so.

 

“Off we go!”, said John.

 

Sam let out a muffled groan as he watched Dean being wheeled his opposite way. John took hold of his own chair.

 

“Shhh, Sam… I’ll explain it all to you very soon now. But I need you to relax and open your mind. I’m about to share a deep knowledge with you, and you should be ready to unlearn some of the things you know… Some things I taught you myself. You see, when I joined the Brotherhood, I was an ignorant too. I had such a narrowed vision of this world… Even though as hunters we knew more than most people”

 

“What the fuck is he talking about? And how I am supposed to relax? I’ve been drugged, tied in a straitjacket so tight that I can barely breathe, gagged, blindfolded, put in the trunk of my car for hours… and I’m suppose to open my mind now? What the fuck is going on?”

 

Of course, Sam couldn’t express his thoughts. “And when the hell is he going to put this thing out of my mouth?”

 

Sam looked at his environment, now that his sight has been restored. What he saw just added to his perplexity. He was in an old building, with walls made of stone; and possibly an underground one, since he had seen no windows until then. But he occasionally spotted some odd details, a lot more modern stuff: the lightening was strictly artificial ; some doors along the corridor seemed wooden and old, but others were made of metal and seemed much more modern. He even saw some cameras on the walls.

 

Besides, this place was huge. They were wheeled during at least ten minutes from the parking lot to where they met their father, and now John had been wheeling him for five other minutes at least.

 

Sam’s intuition wasn’t wrong; at the end of the corridor, John quickly pressed a button hidden in the wall. A door slid shortly after, revealing the cabin of an elevator. The cabin went down, indicating there were many underground levels.

 

As the doors opened, Sam noticed someone walking in the corridor in front of them. It looked like a long blond haired young man. He was wearing the same cloak as his captors and father, with black military boots going over his pants; and his hands seemed gloved. But Sam couldn’t see much of his face; as soon as he was spotted, the man quickly pulled his hood over his head, hiding his face in its shadow.

 

He crossed him without a word, then shortly after, John paused in front of a rather small door. Unlocking it, he pushed Sam inside.

 

The room was quite small, but more strangely, it has a circular shape, like if it was the base of a tower. John stopped the wheelchair in the exact center of the room and turned it in a quarter turn.

 

Sam was now facing an old stone wall… no, there’s something hanging from the ceiling near the opposite wall. Could that be a TV screen? But what kind of place is that?

 

When Sam was trying to look at his environment, he suddenly felt something being pressed against his face and over his gag. Before he could realize what was happening, he was breathing in a medical gas mask going from over his nose to under his chin. John quickly pulled the straps behind his son’s head, making the mask airtight.

 

A hose was connected to the mask. Sam turned his head to see where it was going and his heart missed a beat when he saw that he was connected to a large bottle of pressurized gas, like the one the divers use. Horrified at the idea of being gassed again, and by his own father, Sam forgot all his logic, forgot he was unmercifully straitjacketed and gagged, and started to struggled furiously. He pulled his legs, he pulled his arms, he tried to buck his body, he tried to scream for help.

 

The wheelchair barely moved. And the muffled plea had likely not been heard outside the room.

 

“Quiet now, Sam!”, John said while manipulating the valve. “I told you, you should relax and let things go. There’s nothing you can do anyway right now, and I need you to focus. This is an important step for you today, I don’t want you to fail this”.

 

John let the content of the gas bottle fill Sam’s mask.

 

Sam immediately noticed the gas. Powerless, he had no choice but to let it fill his lungs… and his brain. It was a sweet scent, but it wasn’t chloroform this time, the scent was different and not like anything Sam could remember.

 

After inhaling the gas for twenty seconds, Sam felt more and more relaxed and quite lightheaded… that’s when the TV screen turned on. Sam looked at it. His eyes were immediately caught by the picture on the screen. It was a rotating spiral.

 

“Fuck”, a part of his brain said. “They are trying to hypnotize me! I must not look at it. I must look elsewhere! I must… I...”

 

His brain was foggy. It was more and more difficult for Sam to form a coherent thought. In a supreme effort of will, he forced his eyes to not look at the TV and slightly turned his head… but John’s hands caught swiftly his skull and forced him to look again.

 

The spiral captured him. This time, no voice in his mind warned him. Sam’s entire world was being absorbed by this spiral. The outside world was fading with each breath he took in the gas mask.

 

And suddenly, Sam heard a voice. A strong, deep, authoritative voice. His father's voice.

 

“Now, Sam, my boy. I have some important stuff to tell you. I need you to listen very carefully...”

 

And Sam did listen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When posting the previous chapter, I told people that I expected to release this one quicker.
> 
> Well, again... sorry for that^^
> 
> Hope you'll enjoy this one! As usual, feel free to comment, your reactions really push me up to write more.
> 
> Thanks so much to Bowen12a for the art and my new awesome friend gaggedsockguy95 for the language corrections!

**Author's Note:**

> Some times ago the amazing Bowen did a few art commission for me (see other on my DA page), featuring the Winchester brothers captured by members of a cult . 
> 
> I wasn't sure if I should make the effort to write a full story to illustrate this pics, or just release them with a short description. So, as a test, here is a short "prologue" to this story.
> 
> Please tell me what you think (and remember English isn't my native tongue, so don't hesitate to point out any mistakes or oddity).
> 
> If enough people are interested with them, I'll carry on and write the chapters corresponding to Bowen's illustration :)


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